These are a few videos I made of the Army F/X where we were the OPFOR. Have fun.
Doug
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Doug: Dinner Table
The temperature in late September Seattle usually hovers somewhere around the low seventies. A glance at the outdoor thermometer we’ve nailed up outside our house confirms this for me. It’s around 7, and the whole house is lounging around our picnic table, relaxing. The first week back from school never has any super important homework, and the fall evenings are really just too beautiful to waste on any kind of academics.
Piles of stacked dishes litter the table. It’s a better version of the one my brother and I built last year. I made sure to stain and waterproof this one and, as with all second attempts, this one turned out much better. I’m rather proud of it; Marty and I spent an afternoon and some change putting it together.
He’s lounging at the other end of the table, cigar clenched between his teeth and a Jack Daniels in his left hand. His right is gesticulating wildly, attempting to illustrate some technical point of conflict to Erica, who’s sits to his right, along the side of the table. Heather Wise, our only civilian roommate, watches with a vague look somewhere between amusement and confusion.
Cori Smith and her boyfriend, Jake Greenslade, sit to my immediate right. Both regale me with tales of their summer training down in San Diego. Cori rants about how awesome her cruise on a submarine was, while Jake shakes his head vigorously. “It’s too small; you need mole people to run the damn things.”
Marty pauses mid sentence to interject: “I resemble that remark.” The table erupts in laughter.
I sigh and look around at the green of our backyard, the pile of undone dishes, the friends and roommates I’ve made, a slow grin growing over my face. I love New Mexico, I really do, I love being there and I love the people there. But I’ve also grown to love this place, and the people up here too.
School is going to get hectic soon, ROTC will eat up everyone’s time, the world will turn and turn again. But right here, right now, there are six friends gathered around a table, and that’s a truly great thing.
-Doug
“What are you smiling about?”
“I am content.”
Piles of stacked dishes litter the table. It’s a better version of the one my brother and I built last year. I made sure to stain and waterproof this one and, as with all second attempts, this one turned out much better. I’m rather proud of it; Marty and I spent an afternoon and some change putting it together.
He’s lounging at the other end of the table, cigar clenched between his teeth and a Jack Daniels in his left hand. His right is gesticulating wildly, attempting to illustrate some technical point of conflict to Erica, who’s sits to his right, along the side of the table. Heather Wise, our only civilian roommate, watches with a vague look somewhere between amusement and confusion.
Cori Smith and her boyfriend, Jake Greenslade, sit to my immediate right. Both regale me with tales of their summer training down in San Diego. Cori rants about how awesome her cruise on a submarine was, while Jake shakes his head vigorously. “It’s too small; you need mole people to run the damn things.”
Marty pauses mid sentence to interject: “I resemble that remark.” The table erupts in laughter.
I sigh and look around at the green of our backyard, the pile of undone dishes, the friends and roommates I’ve made, a slow grin growing over my face. I love New Mexico, I really do, I love being there and I love the people there. But I’ve also grown to love this place, and the people up here too.
School is going to get hectic soon, ROTC will eat up everyone’s time, the world will turn and turn again. But right here, right now, there are six friends gathered around a table, and that’s a truly great thing.
-Doug
“What are you smiling about?”
“I am content.”
Meghan: Apartment
“Welcome to our gated community.” The receptionist said, smiling brightly, “I’m sure you’ll be very happy here.”
I slid on sunglasses to protect my eyes from the shine of her smile and shook her hand.
The apartment was perfect.
The water of the pool sparkled in the sun, college students reclined in the grass, and everything was clean and quiet. Compared to some of the apartments I’d seen in my search it was heaven.
After moving some of my stuff in I decided to go for a swim. The sun had just started to sink behind the horizon and no one was there to bother me. After sliding on my suit I wrapped a towel around my hips and walked along the grassy path. When I reached the pool’s edge I had enough time to think that maybe I should bring more weapons with me when I go trolling the pool alone at night, before my arm was twisted painfully behind my back.
“I got one!” my captor yelled gleefully. I kicked at him and smashed the back of my head into his face. I felt his blood on the back of my neck but he held on.
“Idiot.” Another voice snapped, “She’s not right, let her go.”
“But...” My captor said mournfully as he released my arms. Once free I spun away from him, barely avoiding falling in the pool.
He looked at me with sad brown eyes half hidden by the hood of a robe, “But she looks just like one.”
His friend sighed impatiently, “Are you a virgin?”
He repeated the question when I didn’t react. And when I just stared at him with a very confused expression he sighed again, “Tonight is virgin sacrifice night.”
“Oh.” I said. Of course. Virgin sacrifice night, pssh, who doesn’t have virgin sacrifice night? Damn it, I knew this apartment was too good to be true.
“Oh well, let’s go find another one.” The skinny friend said, slinging a bag over his shoulder. His virgin sacrifice carrying bag. I giggled helplessly, and they both stared at me.
“Would you like to come?” brown eyes said happily. His friend looked irritated, but shrugged a shoulder in agreement.
I blinked and thought about it, “Okay.” They pulled out a robe for me and I draped it over my swimsuit.
“Do you know any virgins we could sacrifice?” The angry one asked.
I hummed in thought, “What’s your definition of virgin?”
He flapped a hand, “We just do the standard definition.”
“I might know someone…”
“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!”
“Sarah, please calm down.”
“YOU’RE GOING TO SACRIFICE ME!! I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!!!!”
“I’m sure the sacrifice is only a figure of speech. Besides, you get ten percent off your rent for a few months for participating.”
“I’M NOT GOING TO PAY RENT BECAUSE I’LL BE DEAD!!!”
“You worry too much.”
She swelled to berate me again but before she could she was borne away by burly college boys in robes. I looked a question to the angry robed guy who had brought me here and he said they were going to prepare her. In the meantime the rest of us poured powders and liquids into a huge pot that was bubbling menacingly over the fire. I added a fistful of something silver and the sludge turned a bright green. The circle of cloaked college students grew hushed as the sacrifices were led in. They wore the traditional white frothy dresses that seemed to scream ‘use me for black arts please’. One of the robed guys stepped on a pedestal and started a speech. It was long and dark, with a list of strange twisted names that sounded evil but was really a Latin recipe for baking cupcakes.
Take a cup of flour He began
I peered down at the sludgy substance that we had created and spooned some into a plastic beer cup.
Add a dash of cinnamon
I gave the cup to the guy next to me, pantomiming drinking. He smiled at me and downed it, then turned into a rabbit.
Stir vigorously for two minutes
I stared with delight at the bunny that used to be a man and grabbed another spoonful of goop. This one I launched with deadly accuracy at a girl on my other side. Green liquid dripped down her cheek and she touched it in disgust with a hand that turned into a wing as she turned into a flamingo.
Sprinkle the top lightly with nutmeg
I climbed up on the table behind the giant cauldron of goop and set my shoulder against its edge. Slowly it tilted until the whole thing crashed on its side, dousing the entire crowd of robed students with its contents. The Latin phrases turned to angry squawks when the speaker turned into a duck. The virgin sacrifices looked on in horror as their would be sacrificers turned into all manner of wildlife. I laughed in delight and hopped up and down behind the kettle.
“How dare you.” The angry guy who had led me here had managed to avoid the spray. His hands clenched and unclenched in rage and I could practically see steam pouring from his ears, “How dare you interrupt the ritual.”
I smiled at him and tossed a cupful of the goop that I had saved in his direction. His look of horror melted into one of adorableness as he sprouted orange and white fur and shrank into the form of a tiny orange kitten. My eyes shone with love and I scooped him up, cuddling him under my chin. He meowed pitifully as I picked my way over to Sarah. She sat cross legged in the grass petting two soft rabbits that huddled in her lap.
When I was close enough to hear she glared up at me, “I only forgive you a little bit.”
I grinned and sat down next to her, “I got a kitten.”
Her mouth twitched, “Oh Hera’s going to be so happy. You know you’ll have to get him-“ she cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered, “n-e-u-t-e-r-e-d.” The kitten in my lap hissed and swiped at her. I laughed and dug my fingers into the fluff around his neck. He settled, boneless on my lap, purring.
-Meghan
I slid on sunglasses to protect my eyes from the shine of her smile and shook her hand.
The apartment was perfect.
The water of the pool sparkled in the sun, college students reclined in the grass, and everything was clean and quiet. Compared to some of the apartments I’d seen in my search it was heaven.
After moving some of my stuff in I decided to go for a swim. The sun had just started to sink behind the horizon and no one was there to bother me. After sliding on my suit I wrapped a towel around my hips and walked along the grassy path. When I reached the pool’s edge I had enough time to think that maybe I should bring more weapons with me when I go trolling the pool alone at night, before my arm was twisted painfully behind my back.
“I got one!” my captor yelled gleefully. I kicked at him and smashed the back of my head into his face. I felt his blood on the back of my neck but he held on.
“Idiot.” Another voice snapped, “She’s not right, let her go.”
“But...” My captor said mournfully as he released my arms. Once free I spun away from him, barely avoiding falling in the pool.
He looked at me with sad brown eyes half hidden by the hood of a robe, “But she looks just like one.”
His friend sighed impatiently, “Are you a virgin?”
He repeated the question when I didn’t react. And when I just stared at him with a very confused expression he sighed again, “Tonight is virgin sacrifice night.”
“Oh.” I said. Of course. Virgin sacrifice night, pssh, who doesn’t have virgin sacrifice night? Damn it, I knew this apartment was too good to be true.
“Oh well, let’s go find another one.” The skinny friend said, slinging a bag over his shoulder. His virgin sacrifice carrying bag. I giggled helplessly, and they both stared at me.
“Would you like to come?” brown eyes said happily. His friend looked irritated, but shrugged a shoulder in agreement.
I blinked and thought about it, “Okay.” They pulled out a robe for me and I draped it over my swimsuit.
“Do you know any virgins we could sacrifice?” The angry one asked.
I hummed in thought, “What’s your definition of virgin?”
He flapped a hand, “We just do the standard definition.”
“I might know someone…”
“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!”
“Sarah, please calm down.”
“YOU’RE GOING TO SACRIFICE ME!! I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!!!!”
“I’m sure the sacrifice is only a figure of speech. Besides, you get ten percent off your rent for a few months for participating.”
“I’M NOT GOING TO PAY RENT BECAUSE I’LL BE DEAD!!!”
“You worry too much.”
She swelled to berate me again but before she could she was borne away by burly college boys in robes. I looked a question to the angry robed guy who had brought me here and he said they were going to prepare her. In the meantime the rest of us poured powders and liquids into a huge pot that was bubbling menacingly over the fire. I added a fistful of something silver and the sludge turned a bright green. The circle of cloaked college students grew hushed as the sacrifices were led in. They wore the traditional white frothy dresses that seemed to scream ‘use me for black arts please’. One of the robed guys stepped on a pedestal and started a speech. It was long and dark, with a list of strange twisted names that sounded evil but was really a Latin recipe for baking cupcakes.
Take a cup of flour He began
I peered down at the sludgy substance that we had created and spooned some into a plastic beer cup.
Add a dash of cinnamon
I gave the cup to the guy next to me, pantomiming drinking. He smiled at me and downed it, then turned into a rabbit.
Stir vigorously for two minutes
I stared with delight at the bunny that used to be a man and grabbed another spoonful of goop. This one I launched with deadly accuracy at a girl on my other side. Green liquid dripped down her cheek and she touched it in disgust with a hand that turned into a wing as she turned into a flamingo.
Sprinkle the top lightly with nutmeg
I climbed up on the table behind the giant cauldron of goop and set my shoulder against its edge. Slowly it tilted until the whole thing crashed on its side, dousing the entire crowd of robed students with its contents. The Latin phrases turned to angry squawks when the speaker turned into a duck. The virgin sacrifices looked on in horror as their would be sacrificers turned into all manner of wildlife. I laughed in delight and hopped up and down behind the kettle.
“How dare you.” The angry guy who had led me here had managed to avoid the spray. His hands clenched and unclenched in rage and I could practically see steam pouring from his ears, “How dare you interrupt the ritual.”
I smiled at him and tossed a cupful of the goop that I had saved in his direction. His look of horror melted into one of adorableness as he sprouted orange and white fur and shrank into the form of a tiny orange kitten. My eyes shone with love and I scooped him up, cuddling him under my chin. He meowed pitifully as I picked my way over to Sarah. She sat cross legged in the grass petting two soft rabbits that huddled in her lap.
When I was close enough to hear she glared up at me, “I only forgive you a little bit.”
I grinned and sat down next to her, “I got a kitten.”
Her mouth twitched, “Oh Hera’s going to be so happy. You know you’ll have to get him-“ she cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered, “n-e-u-t-e-r-e-d.” The kitten in my lap hissed and swiped at her. I laughed and dug my fingers into the fluff around his neck. He settled, boneless on my lap, purring.
-Meghan
Sunday, May 16, 2010
That guy: Repost (Tribute)
RIP Ronnie James Dio 5/16/2010
\m/
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
That guy: has something to say.
One more post about music and I’m going to shoot myself.
Even with Sarah’s desperate plea for us (or more specifically me) to write, I find myself lost in a sea of work and dull drudgery. In the few and far between moments when something writeable strikes me, I’m consumed by other things. I mull it over, compose in my head, and by the time I can sit down, uninterrupted, to carve my thoughts, it looses oomph, and drifts into the realm of mediocrity and nonexistence. I have at least half a dozen posts partially finished floating around on my computer, and in my email. And they will never be posted, because once I lose it, it’s really gone. It annoys me, but I think it helps me improve what I do write, as little as that may be. That being said, onwards.
As you all know, I go through infatuations with music. I hear something, and listen to it nonstop until the next thing comes along. The newest one is the song ‘The Devil Cried’ by Black Sabbath. The bonecrushing riffs blew me away the first time I heard it. I’m a huge Sabbath fan, but haven’t really heard any of their new stuff. (TDC is from 2007). Now, I’ve been humming the melody for the past few days, and decided that I need to own the CD, so I can play it in my car, because I have the internet in my room and at work, which is where I spend most of my time anyways. With the addition of this CD, I can listen to it on the go. This is where the story starts to get interesting.
I decided after hearing it on the radio, and listening to it on the Internet for the rest of the evening, that I should go get it after work. This was the first opportunity I’ve had in a while. What you guys might not know is this.
I’ve recently become involved with an organization called Threadspace. Being who I am, and knowing whom I know, which is EVERYONE (even still), I’ve actually known most of these people for a while. I’ve even known the building where we meet. It’s right next to my dentist, and for the longest time, I’ve always wondered what that building was used for.
It’s an organization of artists. They put on shows, play music, do their various forms of art, and have a good time. I was invited to attend a show, but had a prior commitment, so I didn’t make it until late. I ended up staying till 1:30 in the morning discussing plans for the next show, and the future of Threadspace. I’m essentially management now. Because of where I work, I get access to lots of machines that make designing, printing, and creating flyers and posters very easy. I created the flyer for our upcoming event, and doing that, I spent the last few nights out till the wee hours of the morning. Like I said, tonight was the first free night I’ve had.
So I was driving, and decided that instead of Borders, because they charge you more than an executive prostitute, I would go to Hastings. I walked in, and noticed that they had a Rock Band 2 demo set up. Although I prefer the ACTUAL guitar, those games are still pretty fun, and I’m decent enough to have a good time playing without smashing your TV in a fury of plastic and anger. I made a mental note to go back and play after I accomplished my mission, for which nothing would distract me. I charged to the CD section, and after being dismayed that they had rearranged the store AGAIN (seriously, more changes that Michael Jackson’s appearance), I found where I was going. It took a moment to find it, but the Black Sabbath section was littered with goodies. And then the thing I liked about Hastings most came back to me. They mix the used CD’s in with the new. You can compare prices without moving to a new section. And I found what I was looking for. Used. For waaaaaaaay cheaper then I was expecting. It rocked. I did a little dance, right there. In between rock/pop and whatever else was there. Michael Fucking Flatley Pfeffer. And I meandered back towards Rock Band. I waited as two retarded, useless cholos failed miserably, and after they left, plastic guitar in hand, I rocked. A few songs later, realizing that I was pushing plastic buttons on the middle of a sales floor, I wandered off to see if I couldn’t find a cheap movie as well.
Sidetrack time.
The World of Warcraft expansion comes out tomorrow. Fanboys have been preparing for days, hoarding Mountain Dew, Cheetos, and spare pairs of underwear, so that when they shit themselves at how fucking awesome the game is, they can do something about it. I hate WOW. It has caused Blizzard to ruin an absolutely outstanding franchise, and do their best to help mess up the other 2 that made them the company they are.
I was watching a video from an author I really like, and in the corner of his website, because he writes about video games, was a countdown for WOW. It was at zero days and some number of hours and minutes. I was like, ‘Wait…………………….how can it be zero days till it comes out?’ and realized that in all my wisdom and glory……………… I’m an idiot. Coming out on 11/13/08 means that it doesn’t come out on 11/12/08. Duh.
Anyways, I let it slip my mind, because fuck WOW.
This is how I came across my inspiration. Close your eyes, and imagine, if you will, Tommy Lister, from one of my previous posts. But change his name to Mr. Inspiration. Now, give him a bat the size of a zanbatou, and name it The Subject. And finally, send yourself down a dark alley, and get the ever loving fuck smashed out of you by The Subject of Inspiration. This happened to me.
How?
I was browsing the sale racks for a movie to watch before bed, and had just squatted down to read the back of a zombie collection when I heard the familiar crackle of someone about to speak on an overhead PA system. In order for this to work, imagine the voice coming out of the loudspeaker as the voice of God speaking to you. Seriously. It helps.
“Attention Hastings customers. It is now 10:00.”
Fuck, I thought. They’re closing, and I need to not find a movie, and go check out. Damnit.
“Due to the midnight release party of World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King……..”
FUCK YOU, I don’t wanna get kicked out of the store so that ¼ of a fat tub of shit can fit in here.
“We are doing a two hour sale. Everything used, including CD’s, books, and movies is going to be 30% off until midnight.”
FUCK OF…………………….. wait, what? Seriously? Hold on a second…….. the CD I’m getting is used! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
This scene involves me shooting my hands up in the air so hard that the CD actually launched upwards in my glee. I managed to catch it on the way down.
This blew my mind. My originally only $8.49 CD was now even more only $6.64. And………… oh shit…………. They said movies too…………. I’m trying to find a movie…………………
For the second time that night, in a public place, in the middle of display shelves, I was the Lord of the Fucking Dance.
Needless to say, I found a few movies to tack on.
The moral of the story? Don’t ever set a guideline on what can inspire you.
Are all the easily offended people and parents gone? Good. Enough of that sappy crap.
The real moral of the story is that even if you’re staying out till 3:26 in the morning drinking Red Bull and eating pancakes with smokin’ bitches, you can always find heavy metal to corrupt you further. No matter how far gone the world thinks you are, the Satanic forces known as rock and roll will always, always make you want to punch small babies and push elderly ladies over when they’re crossing the street.
This is where you need to picture Gene Simmons doing the tongue thing, and throwing up his horns.
-/m/
Like that.
\m/
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
That guy: has something to say.
One more post about music and I’m going to shoot myself.
Even with Sarah’s desperate plea for us (or more specifically me) to write, I find myself lost in a sea of work and dull drudgery. In the few and far between moments when something writeable strikes me, I’m consumed by other things. I mull it over, compose in my head, and by the time I can sit down, uninterrupted, to carve my thoughts, it looses oomph, and drifts into the realm of mediocrity and nonexistence. I have at least half a dozen posts partially finished floating around on my computer, and in my email. And they will never be posted, because once I lose it, it’s really gone. It annoys me, but I think it helps me improve what I do write, as little as that may be. That being said, onwards.
As you all know, I go through infatuations with music. I hear something, and listen to it nonstop until the next thing comes along. The newest one is the song ‘The Devil Cried’ by Black Sabbath. The bonecrushing riffs blew me away the first time I heard it. I’m a huge Sabbath fan, but haven’t really heard any of their new stuff. (TDC is from 2007). Now, I’ve been humming the melody for the past few days, and decided that I need to own the CD, so I can play it in my car, because I have the internet in my room and at work, which is where I spend most of my time anyways. With the addition of this CD, I can listen to it on the go. This is where the story starts to get interesting.
I decided after hearing it on the radio, and listening to it on the Internet for the rest of the evening, that I should go get it after work. This was the first opportunity I’ve had in a while. What you guys might not know is this.
I’ve recently become involved with an organization called Threadspace. Being who I am, and knowing whom I know, which is EVERYONE (even still), I’ve actually known most of these people for a while. I’ve even known the building where we meet. It’s right next to my dentist, and for the longest time, I’ve always wondered what that building was used for.
It’s an organization of artists. They put on shows, play music, do their various forms of art, and have a good time. I was invited to attend a show, but had a prior commitment, so I didn’t make it until late. I ended up staying till 1:30 in the morning discussing plans for the next show, and the future of Threadspace. I’m essentially management now. Because of where I work, I get access to lots of machines that make designing, printing, and creating flyers and posters very easy. I created the flyer for our upcoming event, and doing that, I spent the last few nights out till the wee hours of the morning. Like I said, tonight was the first free night I’ve had.
So I was driving, and decided that instead of Borders, because they charge you more than an executive prostitute, I would go to Hastings. I walked in, and noticed that they had a Rock Band 2 demo set up. Although I prefer the ACTUAL guitar, those games are still pretty fun, and I’m decent enough to have a good time playing without smashing your TV in a fury of plastic and anger. I made a mental note to go back and play after I accomplished my mission, for which nothing would distract me. I charged to the CD section, and after being dismayed that they had rearranged the store AGAIN (seriously, more changes that Michael Jackson’s appearance), I found where I was going. It took a moment to find it, but the Black Sabbath section was littered with goodies. And then the thing I liked about Hastings most came back to me. They mix the used CD’s in with the new. You can compare prices without moving to a new section. And I found what I was looking for. Used. For waaaaaaaay cheaper then I was expecting. It rocked. I did a little dance, right there. In between rock/pop and whatever else was there. Michael Fucking Flatley Pfeffer. And I meandered back towards Rock Band. I waited as two retarded, useless cholos failed miserably, and after they left, plastic guitar in hand, I rocked. A few songs later, realizing that I was pushing plastic buttons on the middle of a sales floor, I wandered off to see if I couldn’t find a cheap movie as well.
Sidetrack time.
The World of Warcraft expansion comes out tomorrow. Fanboys have been preparing for days, hoarding Mountain Dew, Cheetos, and spare pairs of underwear, so that when they shit themselves at how fucking awesome the game is, they can do something about it. I hate WOW. It has caused Blizzard to ruin an absolutely outstanding franchise, and do their best to help mess up the other 2 that made them the company they are.
I was watching a video from an author I really like, and in the corner of his website, because he writes about video games, was a countdown for WOW. It was at zero days and some number of hours and minutes. I was like, ‘Wait…………………….how can it be zero days till it comes out?’ and realized that in all my wisdom and glory……………… I’m an idiot. Coming out on 11/13/08 means that it doesn’t come out on 11/12/08. Duh.
Anyways, I let it slip my mind, because fuck WOW.
This is how I came across my inspiration. Close your eyes, and imagine, if you will, Tommy Lister, from one of my previous posts. But change his name to Mr. Inspiration. Now, give him a bat the size of a zanbatou, and name it The Subject. And finally, send yourself down a dark alley, and get the ever loving fuck smashed out of you by The Subject of Inspiration. This happened to me.
How?
I was browsing the sale racks for a movie to watch before bed, and had just squatted down to read the back of a zombie collection when I heard the familiar crackle of someone about to speak on an overhead PA system. In order for this to work, imagine the voice coming out of the loudspeaker as the voice of God speaking to you. Seriously. It helps.
“Attention Hastings customers. It is now 10:00.”
Fuck, I thought. They’re closing, and I need to not find a movie, and go check out. Damnit.
“Due to the midnight release party of World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King……..”
FUCK YOU, I don’t wanna get kicked out of the store so that ¼ of a fat tub of shit can fit in here.
“We are doing a two hour sale. Everything used, including CD’s, books, and movies is going to be 30% off until midnight.”
FUCK OF…………………….. wait, what? Seriously? Hold on a second…….. the CD I’m getting is used! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
This scene involves me shooting my hands up in the air so hard that the CD actually launched upwards in my glee. I managed to catch it on the way down.
This blew my mind. My originally only $8.49 CD was now even more only $6.64. And………… oh shit…………. They said movies too…………. I’m trying to find a movie…………………
For the second time that night, in a public place, in the middle of display shelves, I was the Lord of the Fucking Dance.
Needless to say, I found a few movies to tack on.
The moral of the story? Don’t ever set a guideline on what can inspire you.
Are all the easily offended people and parents gone? Good. Enough of that sappy crap.
The real moral of the story is that even if you’re staying out till 3:26 in the morning drinking Red Bull and eating pancakes with smokin’ bitches, you can always find heavy metal to corrupt you further. No matter how far gone the world thinks you are, the Satanic forces known as rock and roll will always, always make you want to punch small babies and push elderly ladies over when they’re crossing the street.
This is where you need to picture Gene Simmons doing the tongue thing, and throwing up his horns.
-/m/
Like that.
Friday, May 14, 2010
That guy: A lesson learned
"When i was twelve, I ran away from a fight.
My dad got wind of what happened, because everyone told their dads and the message got back to mine through the Dad Network.
My dad grabbed my arm, and said 'I'm sorry for this...' And clubbed me right in the face.
And then he held on to me while I cried and bled.
And finally he said 'That's all there is to it. It's no worse than that. You get hit. You bleed. You wash up.'
And I fucking hated him - and still do. But, he did actually teach me something just then."
-BM
My dad got wind of what happened, because everyone told their dads and the message got back to mine through the Dad Network.
My dad grabbed my arm, and said 'I'm sorry for this...' And clubbed me right in the face.
And then he held on to me while I cried and bled.
And finally he said 'That's all there is to it. It's no worse than that. You get hit. You bleed. You wash up.'
And I fucking hated him - and still do. But, he did actually teach me something just then."
-BM
Monday, May 10, 2010
Doug: Rice Balls
The rice is sticky in my palms as I roll it back and forth, attempting that most impossible of geometric shapes, a sphere. We made a pot of rice for our burritos, but the burritoes were done before the rice was, and then we forgot about the rice in favor of The Animatrix.
Now we have sticky rice. I'm doing the dishes, loading the sticky rice into a container that I know is just going to stay full of rice until it goes bad, like everything else that gets saved in our fridge. Rice on its own really isn't that good anyway.
I'm tired, and the fact that I know that the rice is going to be wasted is depressing me. But right as I finish loading it into the tupperware, I get an idea.
Rice balls.
I have no idea how to make rice balls.
How hard can it be?
I try rolling the rice into a ball, pieces stick to my hand and my fledgeling sphere comes apart in my hands. I dump the rice back into the tupperware, frustrated.
"There's got to be a way to digitize this." I pause a beat, and then realize Sgt. Google will enlighten me.
A few minutes later my hands are wet and I'm picking up the rice again.
This time the ball maintains integrity. A breif smile flickers at the corners of my mouth as I pick up another fistfull of rice. Very slowly, ten little balls appear on my tray. Erica comes up behind me, nudgeing me with her elbow and holding up some pieces of mango she's chopped. I nod, not answering, to disturb the silence would ruin this somehow.
I form thumb depressions as she drops the mangoes into the newly formed holes. My worn and rough hands gently pluck the loaded sphere from the tray, compressing the mango and forming a cocoon around it.
A pinch of salt finishes them off and while I finish the dishes Erica puts saran wrap over our rice balls and slips them in the refridgerator. Without a word, we both return to homework.
It has been a long time since I used my hands for creation. I forgot how satisfying it is.
-Doug
"I'm kind of excited to see how this turns out."
Now we have sticky rice. I'm doing the dishes, loading the sticky rice into a container that I know is just going to stay full of rice until it goes bad, like everything else that gets saved in our fridge. Rice on its own really isn't that good anyway.
I'm tired, and the fact that I know that the rice is going to be wasted is depressing me. But right as I finish loading it into the tupperware, I get an idea.
Rice balls.
I have no idea how to make rice balls.
How hard can it be?
I try rolling the rice into a ball, pieces stick to my hand and my fledgeling sphere comes apart in my hands. I dump the rice back into the tupperware, frustrated.
"There's got to be a way to digitize this." I pause a beat, and then realize Sgt. Google will enlighten me.
A few minutes later my hands are wet and I'm picking up the rice again.
This time the ball maintains integrity. A breif smile flickers at the corners of my mouth as I pick up another fistfull of rice. Very slowly, ten little balls appear on my tray. Erica comes up behind me, nudgeing me with her elbow and holding up some pieces of mango she's chopped. I nod, not answering, to disturb the silence would ruin this somehow.
I form thumb depressions as she drops the mangoes into the newly formed holes. My worn and rough hands gently pluck the loaded sphere from the tray, compressing the mango and forming a cocoon around it.
A pinch of salt finishes them off and while I finish the dishes Erica puts saran wrap over our rice balls and slips them in the refridgerator. Without a word, we both return to homework.
It has been a long time since I used my hands for creation. I forgot how satisfying it is.
-Doug
"I'm kind of excited to see how this turns out."
Sarah: Being Ill
She laid in bed at her parents house without the will to move.
"Uhh..."
She coughed violently spewing mucus all over the pretty silk comforter that her mother had redecorated with. She couldn't remember when her old comforter and furnature was replaced by the black and cherrywood set her parents used to have in their bedroom. It must have happened when she moved out and into the dorms. It was so long ago.
She was sick, and not the allergies gone wild sick, the I-should-be-dead-due-to-natural-selection sick. Her chest was on fire, her throat closed so that she couldn't breath, and her nose raw and sore from being wiped. That's exactly what she was - wiped.
She remembers all the dreams that she had only a few years ago - all the things that she wanted to accomplish. They all have conveniently passed her by.
"I'm almost 21, tried living on my own and failed, and I can't even get out of bed to get myself a cup of tea. What's worse - I don't even want a cup of tea."
Her cell phone rang. It was him.
"Hey Babe."
"I feel like dying, how're papers and finals going?
"Awesome. You still want to do the beach trip?"
"Right, I forgot about the new job - that's so awesome. I don't start until the 24th. Yeah, maybe I'll go by myself. Got to get through finals though. One to go."
"Love you too. Bye."
The last thing she wanted was to drive to the beach by herself. There were so many more important things. His new job, her best friend coming back into town, the need to finish up the semester, and of course, signing off her old lease and finding a new place.
It just seemed that the week before she started her job was her only chance to relax. It also looked like whatever she did she wasn't going to feel up to traveling. There was also the problem of finding someone to go with her.
Why couldn't she just sleep and have awesome dreams like Meghan? Dreams that told her how she felt about her family and her relationships and her life?
Instead she woke up believing that she went to the grocery store and acquired a pet Chilean condor. How exactly was that supposed to help her decide what to do?
She drifted off to sleep, yet again.
Naming my pet house bunny (when I get a place and have get one) Chilean condor. Con for short.
Goodnight,
Sarah
"Uhh..."
She coughed violently spewing mucus all over the pretty silk comforter that her mother had redecorated with. She couldn't remember when her old comforter and furnature was replaced by the black and cherrywood set her parents used to have in their bedroom. It must have happened when she moved out and into the dorms. It was so long ago.
She was sick, and not the allergies gone wild sick, the I-should-be-dead-due-to-natural-selection sick. Her chest was on fire, her throat closed so that she couldn't breath, and her nose raw and sore from being wiped. That's exactly what she was - wiped.
She remembers all the dreams that she had only a few years ago - all the things that she wanted to accomplish. They all have conveniently passed her by.
"I'm almost 21, tried living on my own and failed, and I can't even get out of bed to get myself a cup of tea. What's worse - I don't even want a cup of tea."
Her cell phone rang. It was him.
"Hey Babe."
"I feel like dying, how're papers and finals going?
"Awesome. You still want to do the beach trip?"
"Right, I forgot about the new job - that's so awesome. I don't start until the 24th. Yeah, maybe I'll go by myself. Got to get through finals though. One to go."
"Love you too. Bye."
The last thing she wanted was to drive to the beach by herself. There were so many more important things. His new job, her best friend coming back into town, the need to finish up the semester, and of course, signing off her old lease and finding a new place.
It just seemed that the week before she started her job was her only chance to relax. It also looked like whatever she did she wasn't going to feel up to traveling. There was also the problem of finding someone to go with her.
Why couldn't she just sleep and have awesome dreams like Meghan? Dreams that told her how she felt about her family and her relationships and her life?
Instead she woke up believing that she went to the grocery store and acquired a pet Chilean condor. How exactly was that supposed to help her decide what to do?
She drifted off to sleep, yet again.
Naming my pet house bunny (when I get a place and have get one) Chilean condor. Con for short.
Goodnight,
Sarah
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Meghan: Cure
PART I
The door to the plane popped open with a squeal as Doug slammed his foot against it. He leaned his foot on the edge of the exit, peering out into the sand dunes like a conqueror surveying his domain.
“Well that could have been a better landing.”
Abe snorted from the cockpit, “Hey, I’ve never flown a plane before. We’re all alive, that was an excellent landing.”
I squirmed up next to Doug and stuck my head out into the breeze, pushing him out of the door in the process. He landed deftly on his feet then ran around to check the extent of the damage to our vehicle. I squinted into the sun, trying to see the forest we had been aiming for. It was clearly visible, not much of a walk at all. I smiled in relief, only to barely avoid falling out as one of the packs clipped the side of my head as it was thrown out of the plane. I wasn’t fast enough to dodge the next one and was knocked from the plane to land in the sand. I groaned and searched for my bag, strapping it on my back. Abe and Jasmine jumped from the plane, smiling at my suffering. Doug came back from his plane observations and we set off in the direction of the forest.
In the forest there was a village where it was rumored wishes could be granted. But that was an exaggeration, and a little too magical to describe exactly what happened there. The medical technology accessible to the doctors who researched at the village was beyond anything seen around the world. If the right price was paid, it was rumored that they could cure any disease, even death. Gangs vied for the doctors’ favor, putting on fantastic shows and offering outrageous bribes for surgeries they soon grew addicted to. But we weren’t here for the politics and the miracles, we were going to get in and get out fast, just to get Jasmine’s cure. I had a friend of a friend who was friends with one of the doctors. It was a distant connection, but I had a note asking for the favor sewn into my clothes. A note was more than some people had. The doctor we were looking for ran a café, which was where we were heading now. When we walked in, the place was much calmer and gentler than I’d expected. Some of the doctors asked for war in exchange for favors, but apparently not this one. Doug and Abe took Jasmine to a table while I hesitated at the entrance, grabbing the arm of a waitress that walked by.
“I need to see her.” I said softly.
The waitress’ lips twisted, “So does everyone else.”
“I know her.” I patted my coat, “I have a letter for her.”
She sighed and twisted her arm free, “I’ll tell her.”
“Thanks.”
I sat down at the table with my people, eyeing Jasmine’s white face worriedly.
“She’s losing it.” Doug said softly as he laid a hand against her hot forehead.
“Try to hold it.” I whispered, but I could tell it was too late. Veins traced down her arms and up her neck. Her skin collapsed on itself, thinning and wrinkling. Her face sunk down and she was staring at us from a face aged sixty years more.
I sighed and stroked her fragile hands, “Oh well.”
Doug’s jaw twitched and he glared around the room, furious eyes seeking the doctor we’d come for. He’d just opened his mouth (probably to shout that if the doctor didn’t get her ass out now, he’d take the whole place down), when a round, comfortable woman materialized at his elbow.
“I heard you have something for me.” She said, fixing me with dark brown eyes.
“Yes,” I said, startled by her appearance. I’d never seen one of them up close, but this was no time to gawp. I started to extract the letter from my jacket.
“We need your help for—“
“I know.” She said impatiently, glancing at Jasmine, “The letter first please.” I handed it to her and she seized it eagerly, eyes scanning the words. After a minute she laughed and stuffed the papers down the front of her dress.
“Interesting, so interesting,” she laughed, “I will grant you a favor.” She continued formally, “But I will need your samples.” I tried to repress a shiver of disgust. The doctors were always well known for taking strange samples; it was rumored that they could kill you or makes you do things if you gave them the samples they asked for.
“All right.” I said cautiously, standing and pushing back my chair, “Take what you need.”
“Not like that.” She said, flapping a hand at my body. I arched an eyebrow in question and she handed me a little bottle, “Drink that, it will make you right.”
I glanced at Abe and Doug and they nodded in what appeared to be reassurance. I swallowed the sweet liquid fast and squeezed my eyes shut as I felt my organs move and my tissues dance around my bones. I heard a strangled noise and opened my eyes to see both Abe and Doug staring at me with horror. Oh shit, what had she done. I raised a shaky hand to push hair out of my eyes, and nearly died on the spot when I saw my thick fingers and curly black hair. ‘Calm down, calm down’ I chanted to myself as I carefully felt my face, glasses, neck, and arms. She had turned me into a man. Well at least now I could more effectively strangle her.
She saw the rage in my eyes and waved a hand anxiously, “No, no, this is just how I’m going to take the samples; I’m not going to leave you this way.”
I hissed through my teeth as I stared down at her, but she wasn’t afraid, she knew she had me.
“Do you want me to heal your friend or not?”
My voice was deeper and thoroughly creeped me out when I spoke, “Do it.”
She pulled a small knife from the pocket of the apron she wore over her dress and instructed me to open my mouth. I obliged and she sliced down the length of my tongue shallowly. She caught the blood in a shallow dish and set it on the table.
“This may feel a little odd.” She warned me as she picked up a larger bowl. Her little knife was fast as it slit open my abdomen. I was barely able to make a soft sound of surprise before she stuck a hand inside me and began rooting around. She let out a soft sigh as she apparently found what she had been looking for. Three glistening yellow eggs slipped from my insides into the bowl that she held. After her prize had been extracted she held the sides of my skin together and smeared a putty colored substance over the wound. She stroked it repeatedly, smoothing it over my skin. When I looked down again the flesh of my stomach was flat and perfect, though smeared with blood.
“Take this.” The doctor said, offering me a little green pill, “It will turn you back.” She gathered up the things she had taken from me, “I’ll mix up the cure for your friend so you can be on your way.” She bustled off and I flicked the tiny pill into my mouth and followed it with a mouthful of water. With a groan I sank into my empty chair as my organs started twitching again. When it was done I rolled my eyes to Jasmine, whose skin had started to lose its age as she reverted to the younger version of herself.
“Shifting shapes sucks.”
She laughed tiredly and nodded.
Doug was staring into space, his eyes wide with horror, “I don’t know if I can ever get over that.”
I laughed, “Oh, poor baby, my pity is underwhelming. Next time, you can be the one who turns into a girl.”
He looked at me then promptly clenched his hands over his eyes, “Just give me a minute, I need to get that image out of my head.”
Abe was studying me speculatively, “I think your nose is a little further left than it used to be.” My hands flew to my face to check on the location of everything. I scowled at the laughing Abe as the doctor came back to the table. She set down a nasty looking needle and shook a little vial of clear liquid. One of the waitresses pushed up Jasmine’s sleeve and tied a tourniquet around her arm.
“One for the blood and one for the muscle.” The doctor said absently as the waitress slid an IV needle into Jasmine’s arm. While she was setting up the IV bag the doctor stabbed her needle into Jasmine’s other arm. Jasmine clenched her jaw as the liquid was slowly injected into her tissue.
“There.” The doctor sat back to survey her work, “When the IV’s done you can leave.”
We sipped coffee anxiously as we watched Jasmine’s color creep back and her skin fill out. When the IV finally reached its end point she glowed with health and pulled the needle out herself.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Yes please.” I sighed
PART II
Okay, the second part to this dream is just too odd to leave out.
I stroked Jasmine’s healed skin again and again, blindly happy at her healing. The guys had gone back to try to repair our plane and had called to say that it would be a day or so before we could head out. So Jasmine and I were going to catch one of the shows that were part of the more eloquent competitive gang wars, and then bring them back dinner. We were both a little shaky from the shape changes and were dubbed useless in airplane repair anyway. My hair was pinned up and I wore a subdued black dress. Jasmine was equally boring looking in a dark blue dress. The dark colors wouldn’t scream out challenges to the group that was hosting the play. Given that we had asked for and received a favor from one of the doctors, we weren’t going to be liked, but we could at least try to not draw attention.
“I’ll get seats,” Jasmine murmured in my ear.
I nodded, “I’ll be there in a minute.” I gazed out over the sea of people, thinking that I had recognized someone. I had decided that I’d imagined it when my gaze caught on a small bent elderly woman making her way slowly through the crowd. I swallowed harshly and waded over to her, curtseying when I stopped in front of her.
“Grandmother.”
I had known that my grandmother ran one of the gangs in the village, but it was one thing to hear it and another to see it.
“Granddaughter.” She said stiffly. She tapped her cane on the floor in front of her and the two guards behind her snapped to attention. I looked at them speculatively, then gaped when I recognized my brother.
“Brian?”
“Meghan?” He slid off his sunglasses and squinted at me, “What are you doing here?”
“A friend of mine was sick.” I said hesitantly. I didn’t want to tell my grandmother that I had used a doctor’s favor on Jasmine when she had spent her life trying to get one of them to keep her from dying.
But she pounced on my hesitation, “Was?”
I ignored her and turned to the other bodyguard, “Is that Purwin? It can’t be.”
He relaxed and took off his sunglasses, “Hey, it’s been a while.”
But my grandmother could not be distracted “Don’t tell me you’ve betrayed the family for that girl again?”
I rubbed my forehead tiredly, “Yes.”
She swelled to twice her size and I fled before she could blast be with admonishing, kissing her cheek and telling her I hoped she enjoyed the play. I dodged between people into the velvety darkness of the theatre. I was breathing heavily like I’d been running, and leaned against a carpeted wall, trying to draw the peace into myself.
“What’s wrong?” someone asked, and I looked up. Jasmine was walking toward me, frowning, “Did something happen?”
I slid my arms around her waist and drew her to me, “Nope.”
-M
The door to the plane popped open with a squeal as Doug slammed his foot against it. He leaned his foot on the edge of the exit, peering out into the sand dunes like a conqueror surveying his domain.
“Well that could have been a better landing.”
Abe snorted from the cockpit, “Hey, I’ve never flown a plane before. We’re all alive, that was an excellent landing.”
I squirmed up next to Doug and stuck my head out into the breeze, pushing him out of the door in the process. He landed deftly on his feet then ran around to check the extent of the damage to our vehicle. I squinted into the sun, trying to see the forest we had been aiming for. It was clearly visible, not much of a walk at all. I smiled in relief, only to barely avoid falling out as one of the packs clipped the side of my head as it was thrown out of the plane. I wasn’t fast enough to dodge the next one and was knocked from the plane to land in the sand. I groaned and searched for my bag, strapping it on my back. Abe and Jasmine jumped from the plane, smiling at my suffering. Doug came back from his plane observations and we set off in the direction of the forest.
In the forest there was a village where it was rumored wishes could be granted. But that was an exaggeration, and a little too magical to describe exactly what happened there. The medical technology accessible to the doctors who researched at the village was beyond anything seen around the world. If the right price was paid, it was rumored that they could cure any disease, even death. Gangs vied for the doctors’ favor, putting on fantastic shows and offering outrageous bribes for surgeries they soon grew addicted to. But we weren’t here for the politics and the miracles, we were going to get in and get out fast, just to get Jasmine’s cure. I had a friend of a friend who was friends with one of the doctors. It was a distant connection, but I had a note asking for the favor sewn into my clothes. A note was more than some people had. The doctor we were looking for ran a café, which was where we were heading now. When we walked in, the place was much calmer and gentler than I’d expected. Some of the doctors asked for war in exchange for favors, but apparently not this one. Doug and Abe took Jasmine to a table while I hesitated at the entrance, grabbing the arm of a waitress that walked by.
“I need to see her.” I said softly.
The waitress’ lips twisted, “So does everyone else.”
“I know her.” I patted my coat, “I have a letter for her.”
She sighed and twisted her arm free, “I’ll tell her.”
“Thanks.”
I sat down at the table with my people, eyeing Jasmine’s white face worriedly.
“She’s losing it.” Doug said softly as he laid a hand against her hot forehead.
“Try to hold it.” I whispered, but I could tell it was too late. Veins traced down her arms and up her neck. Her skin collapsed on itself, thinning and wrinkling. Her face sunk down and she was staring at us from a face aged sixty years more.
I sighed and stroked her fragile hands, “Oh well.”
Doug’s jaw twitched and he glared around the room, furious eyes seeking the doctor we’d come for. He’d just opened his mouth (probably to shout that if the doctor didn’t get her ass out now, he’d take the whole place down), when a round, comfortable woman materialized at his elbow.
“I heard you have something for me.” She said, fixing me with dark brown eyes.
“Yes,” I said, startled by her appearance. I’d never seen one of them up close, but this was no time to gawp. I started to extract the letter from my jacket.
“We need your help for—“
“I know.” She said impatiently, glancing at Jasmine, “The letter first please.” I handed it to her and she seized it eagerly, eyes scanning the words. After a minute she laughed and stuffed the papers down the front of her dress.
“Interesting, so interesting,” she laughed, “I will grant you a favor.” She continued formally, “But I will need your samples.” I tried to repress a shiver of disgust. The doctors were always well known for taking strange samples; it was rumored that they could kill you or makes you do things if you gave them the samples they asked for.
“All right.” I said cautiously, standing and pushing back my chair, “Take what you need.”
“Not like that.” She said, flapping a hand at my body. I arched an eyebrow in question and she handed me a little bottle, “Drink that, it will make you right.”
I glanced at Abe and Doug and they nodded in what appeared to be reassurance. I swallowed the sweet liquid fast and squeezed my eyes shut as I felt my organs move and my tissues dance around my bones. I heard a strangled noise and opened my eyes to see both Abe and Doug staring at me with horror. Oh shit, what had she done. I raised a shaky hand to push hair out of my eyes, and nearly died on the spot when I saw my thick fingers and curly black hair. ‘Calm down, calm down’ I chanted to myself as I carefully felt my face, glasses, neck, and arms. She had turned me into a man. Well at least now I could more effectively strangle her.
She saw the rage in my eyes and waved a hand anxiously, “No, no, this is just how I’m going to take the samples; I’m not going to leave you this way.”
I hissed through my teeth as I stared down at her, but she wasn’t afraid, she knew she had me.
“Do you want me to heal your friend or not?”
My voice was deeper and thoroughly creeped me out when I spoke, “Do it.”
She pulled a small knife from the pocket of the apron she wore over her dress and instructed me to open my mouth. I obliged and she sliced down the length of my tongue shallowly. She caught the blood in a shallow dish and set it on the table.
“This may feel a little odd.” She warned me as she picked up a larger bowl. Her little knife was fast as it slit open my abdomen. I was barely able to make a soft sound of surprise before she stuck a hand inside me and began rooting around. She let out a soft sigh as she apparently found what she had been looking for. Three glistening yellow eggs slipped from my insides into the bowl that she held. After her prize had been extracted she held the sides of my skin together and smeared a putty colored substance over the wound. She stroked it repeatedly, smoothing it over my skin. When I looked down again the flesh of my stomach was flat and perfect, though smeared with blood.
“Take this.” The doctor said, offering me a little green pill, “It will turn you back.” She gathered up the things she had taken from me, “I’ll mix up the cure for your friend so you can be on your way.” She bustled off and I flicked the tiny pill into my mouth and followed it with a mouthful of water. With a groan I sank into my empty chair as my organs started twitching again. When it was done I rolled my eyes to Jasmine, whose skin had started to lose its age as she reverted to the younger version of herself.
“Shifting shapes sucks.”
She laughed tiredly and nodded.
Doug was staring into space, his eyes wide with horror, “I don’t know if I can ever get over that.”
I laughed, “Oh, poor baby, my pity is underwhelming. Next time, you can be the one who turns into a girl.”
He looked at me then promptly clenched his hands over his eyes, “Just give me a minute, I need to get that image out of my head.”
Abe was studying me speculatively, “I think your nose is a little further left than it used to be.” My hands flew to my face to check on the location of everything. I scowled at the laughing Abe as the doctor came back to the table. She set down a nasty looking needle and shook a little vial of clear liquid. One of the waitresses pushed up Jasmine’s sleeve and tied a tourniquet around her arm.
“One for the blood and one for the muscle.” The doctor said absently as the waitress slid an IV needle into Jasmine’s arm. While she was setting up the IV bag the doctor stabbed her needle into Jasmine’s other arm. Jasmine clenched her jaw as the liquid was slowly injected into her tissue.
“There.” The doctor sat back to survey her work, “When the IV’s done you can leave.”
We sipped coffee anxiously as we watched Jasmine’s color creep back and her skin fill out. When the IV finally reached its end point she glowed with health and pulled the needle out herself.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Yes please.” I sighed
PART II
Okay, the second part to this dream is just too odd to leave out.
I stroked Jasmine’s healed skin again and again, blindly happy at her healing. The guys had gone back to try to repair our plane and had called to say that it would be a day or so before we could head out. So Jasmine and I were going to catch one of the shows that were part of the more eloquent competitive gang wars, and then bring them back dinner. We were both a little shaky from the shape changes and were dubbed useless in airplane repair anyway. My hair was pinned up and I wore a subdued black dress. Jasmine was equally boring looking in a dark blue dress. The dark colors wouldn’t scream out challenges to the group that was hosting the play. Given that we had asked for and received a favor from one of the doctors, we weren’t going to be liked, but we could at least try to not draw attention.
“I’ll get seats,” Jasmine murmured in my ear.
I nodded, “I’ll be there in a minute.” I gazed out over the sea of people, thinking that I had recognized someone. I had decided that I’d imagined it when my gaze caught on a small bent elderly woman making her way slowly through the crowd. I swallowed harshly and waded over to her, curtseying when I stopped in front of her.
“Grandmother.”
I had known that my grandmother ran one of the gangs in the village, but it was one thing to hear it and another to see it.
“Granddaughter.” She said stiffly. She tapped her cane on the floor in front of her and the two guards behind her snapped to attention. I looked at them speculatively, then gaped when I recognized my brother.
“Brian?”
“Meghan?” He slid off his sunglasses and squinted at me, “What are you doing here?”
“A friend of mine was sick.” I said hesitantly. I didn’t want to tell my grandmother that I had used a doctor’s favor on Jasmine when she had spent her life trying to get one of them to keep her from dying.
But she pounced on my hesitation, “Was?”
I ignored her and turned to the other bodyguard, “Is that Purwin? It can’t be.”
He relaxed and took off his sunglasses, “Hey, it’s been a while.”
But my grandmother could not be distracted “Don’t tell me you’ve betrayed the family for that girl again?”
I rubbed my forehead tiredly, “Yes.”
She swelled to twice her size and I fled before she could blast be with admonishing, kissing her cheek and telling her I hoped she enjoyed the play. I dodged between people into the velvety darkness of the theatre. I was breathing heavily like I’d been running, and leaned against a carpeted wall, trying to draw the peace into myself.
“What’s wrong?” someone asked, and I looked up. Jasmine was walking toward me, frowning, “Did something happen?”
I slid my arms around her waist and drew her to me, “Nope.”
-M
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Doug: Yihud
“Shouldn’t you be panicking by now? Isn’t that the tradition for this sort of thing?” I asked laconically, lounging in the plush chair that the hotel had helpfully provided. Abe glanced over at me, the genuine grin on his face demonstrating his irrepressible good mood. There had been a lot of that lately, more than I had ever seen before. That was part of the reason I approved of this mad venture.
“People panic when they make bad decisions. This is the best decision of my life.”
“Better than sharing those gobstoppers in 6th grade? Better than driving a thousand miles in 48 hours to see Haylee Williams? Better than biking 60 miles to Santa Fe with no preparation and only 6 liters of water? Better than visiting Juarez during a gang war?”
“Better than all of the above.”
“I’m offended.” I’m really not, but I feel as though I should put up some kind of token resistance to my best friend, my brother, descending into the shackles of ‘Holy Matrimony’. “You’re saying that a lifetime of eternal partnership is better than my everlasting brotherhood and friendship.”
“She does things that you can’t do for me man.”
I sighed, laying my head back against the headrest on the chair and wincing. “I know. Please don’t enlighten me with the details. Jesus Christ, I don’t know how you can move. Last night was fucking crazy.” Gremlins inside my skull are doing their best to bore through my ocular nerves and frontal lobe. Abe glances at me in the mirror, eyebrow cocked, the grin growing wider.
“Man up, lightweight. You aren’t the one getting married.”
I put my hand over my eyes and moaned, “Thank the Gods.”
A soft knock at the door heralded two blonde heads poking their way into the room.
“Are you not ready?” The taller one asked in a slightly harried voice.
“You have like, 5 minutes.” The shorter one laughed, eyeing me speculatively.
“I’ll be ready.” I’m half dressed, the tux pants still sitting forlornly on the hanger with the jacket. “One time in JROTC I had three minutes from wake time to get dressed and get to school before being late to zero hour. Made it with thirty seconds to go.”
The taller blonde, Meghan, made a hissing sound through her teeth. “The Bride will not like her wedding to take place with pantsless people.”
Jasmine tilted her head to the side, eyes staring off into the distance. I glanced at her, reading her mind: “Imagining naked wedding?”
“It has possibilities.”
“File it, You and Meghan can have one.” Abe commented from in front of a mirror, straightening his tie. “Doug, put your pants on. I’m getting married.”
“I’m not sure I can move…”
“We can move you.” Jasmine volunteers.
“Three minutes and seventeen seconds.”
“Pants. I will wear these pants.” I put them on, tucking in my shirt and buckling my belt. Meghan steps forward and fiddles with my tie.
“One minute.” Jasmine says. I throw on my coat. Abe squares his shoulders, looking slightly nervous for the first time.
“I’m making a huge mistake.”
I grin. Finally, some sense. “The window’s big enough. I already checked.”
“I’m wearing flats.” Jasmine grins, prepared.
Meghan lifts up her skirt just a hair and pulls her car keys out a pouch connected to a small holster for the Sig strapped to her leg. “Front parking lot, third row.”
She paused, “Why is everyone staring at me?”
“Where did you get the gun?”
“Why do you have the gun?”
“Why did I not find that earlier?”
I glance at Jasmine. “In a church?” She smiles like the cat that got the canary. I suppose she did.
Meghan looks at each of us in turn. “Ron’s. Because it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, and I wasn’t wearing it during that.” She turns a little red. “My turn for a question. Are we doing this or not?”
“Not.” Abe flip flops.
“Seriously John Kerry? You want some ketchup with those pancakes?”
“Let’s go.” He grabs me and half forces me out the door. The bright sunlight burning through the window stabs into my eyeballs and I almost swear before I realize we’re in front of about sixty of our close friends and relatives.
Jordan, my brother, is officiating, and looking at his watch pointedly. I grin and nod at Abe, who shrugs, muttering “It’s my wedding, It goes when I go.” Meghan and Jasmine flit out behind us, taking their seats. I am recovered from the hateful sun and nudge Abe over to the altar.
“How do Jews normally do this?” I ask. I’m far from being a lousy best man, at least in the sinful sense of the job, but Abe had specified that he was going for some kind of combined thing, only part Jewish, and kept me in the dark with most of the details. I had a speech and a party, and that was it, simple really.
“Lots of ceremony, dancing,” He mutters. “The wine glass thing is really the only thing I kept, as per my penchant for breaking shit. Also there’s the Yihud.”
“What’s that?”
“After the ceremony, the bride and groom get 15 minutes alone before the rest of the party starts.”
“Post ceremony nookie? I like that.” I like that a lot.
“Depends on how reverent you’re feeling.” Said with a less than reverent grin. I grin too, and then the music starts up.
Abe mutters, “Oh shit.” Right as I say, “Showtime.”
Out comes the first and only bridesmaid, coming down the aisle at what appears to be light speed. She flashes me a salacious grin that I pray that Meghan and her gun don’t notice and takes her place to the right of Jordan.
Abe has become completely calm. His face is neutral and he nods to the bridesmaid, acknowledging her presence, but focusing on the entrance where a figure in white has appeared.
As The Bride approached, the serious look broke into a smile that I had rarely seen on my best friend’s face, and in that moment, I knew it was going to be all right
-Doug
“People panic when they make bad decisions. This is the best decision of my life.”
“Better than sharing those gobstoppers in 6th grade? Better than driving a thousand miles in 48 hours to see Haylee Williams? Better than biking 60 miles to Santa Fe with no preparation and only 6 liters of water? Better than visiting Juarez during a gang war?”
“Better than all of the above.”
“I’m offended.” I’m really not, but I feel as though I should put up some kind of token resistance to my best friend, my brother, descending into the shackles of ‘Holy Matrimony’. “You’re saying that a lifetime of eternal partnership is better than my everlasting brotherhood and friendship.”
“She does things that you can’t do for me man.”
I sighed, laying my head back against the headrest on the chair and wincing. “I know. Please don’t enlighten me with the details. Jesus Christ, I don’t know how you can move. Last night was fucking crazy.” Gremlins inside my skull are doing their best to bore through my ocular nerves and frontal lobe. Abe glances at me in the mirror, eyebrow cocked, the grin growing wider.
“Man up, lightweight. You aren’t the one getting married.”
I put my hand over my eyes and moaned, “Thank the Gods.”
A soft knock at the door heralded two blonde heads poking their way into the room.
“Are you not ready?” The taller one asked in a slightly harried voice.
“You have like, 5 minutes.” The shorter one laughed, eyeing me speculatively.
“I’ll be ready.” I’m half dressed, the tux pants still sitting forlornly on the hanger with the jacket. “One time in JROTC I had three minutes from wake time to get dressed and get to school before being late to zero hour. Made it with thirty seconds to go.”
The taller blonde, Meghan, made a hissing sound through her teeth. “The Bride will not like her wedding to take place with pantsless people.”
Jasmine tilted her head to the side, eyes staring off into the distance. I glanced at her, reading her mind: “Imagining naked wedding?”
“It has possibilities.”
“File it, You and Meghan can have one.” Abe commented from in front of a mirror, straightening his tie. “Doug, put your pants on. I’m getting married.”
“I’m not sure I can move…”
“We can move you.” Jasmine volunteers.
“Three minutes and seventeen seconds.”
“Pants. I will wear these pants.” I put them on, tucking in my shirt and buckling my belt. Meghan steps forward and fiddles with my tie.
“One minute.” Jasmine says. I throw on my coat. Abe squares his shoulders, looking slightly nervous for the first time.
“I’m making a huge mistake.”
I grin. Finally, some sense. “The window’s big enough. I already checked.”
“I’m wearing flats.” Jasmine grins, prepared.
Meghan lifts up her skirt just a hair and pulls her car keys out a pouch connected to a small holster for the Sig strapped to her leg. “Front parking lot, third row.”
She paused, “Why is everyone staring at me?”
“Where did you get the gun?”
“Why do you have the gun?”
“Why did I not find that earlier?”
I glance at Jasmine. “In a church?” She smiles like the cat that got the canary. I suppose she did.
Meghan looks at each of us in turn. “Ron’s. Because it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, and I wasn’t wearing it during that.” She turns a little red. “My turn for a question. Are we doing this or not?”
“Not.” Abe flip flops.
“Seriously John Kerry? You want some ketchup with those pancakes?”
“Let’s go.” He grabs me and half forces me out the door. The bright sunlight burning through the window stabs into my eyeballs and I almost swear before I realize we’re in front of about sixty of our close friends and relatives.
Jordan, my brother, is officiating, and looking at his watch pointedly. I grin and nod at Abe, who shrugs, muttering “It’s my wedding, It goes when I go.” Meghan and Jasmine flit out behind us, taking their seats. I am recovered from the hateful sun and nudge Abe over to the altar.
“How do Jews normally do this?” I ask. I’m far from being a lousy best man, at least in the sinful sense of the job, but Abe had specified that he was going for some kind of combined thing, only part Jewish, and kept me in the dark with most of the details. I had a speech and a party, and that was it, simple really.
“Lots of ceremony, dancing,” He mutters. “The wine glass thing is really the only thing I kept, as per my penchant for breaking shit. Also there’s the Yihud.”
“What’s that?”
“After the ceremony, the bride and groom get 15 minutes alone before the rest of the party starts.”
“Post ceremony nookie? I like that.” I like that a lot.
“Depends on how reverent you’re feeling.” Said with a less than reverent grin. I grin too, and then the music starts up.
Abe mutters, “Oh shit.” Right as I say, “Showtime.”
Out comes the first and only bridesmaid, coming down the aisle at what appears to be light speed. She flashes me a salacious grin that I pray that Meghan and her gun don’t notice and takes her place to the right of Jordan.
Abe has become completely calm. His face is neutral and he nods to the bridesmaid, acknowledging her presence, but focusing on the entrance where a figure in white has appeared.
As The Bride approached, the serious look broke into a smile that I had rarely seen on my best friend’s face, and in that moment, I knew it was going to be all right
-Doug
Monday, May 3, 2010
That guy: Nuclear Launch Detected
Ladies and gentlemen.
I bid you adeu.
As of 7.27.10, I will be a zombie, and mindless slave, cluched by the grips of of a beautiful terror know as Starcraft 2. It has been 12 long, harrowing years since Starcraft. I'm ready world.
For the swarm.
Kill.
That guy
I bid you adeu.
As of 7.27.10, I will be a zombie, and mindless slave, cluched by the grips of of a beautiful terror know as Starcraft 2. It has been 12 long, harrowing years since Starcraft. I'm ready world.
For the swarm.
Kill.
That guy
Sunday, May 2, 2010
That guy: Fffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuu
So, I guess I’m an adult now. Funny how that works. Either way, Its beren forever since I posted anything. Ive been busy and shit, but that’s no excuse, as Doug likes to point out. Here’s my problem, though. My creativity is gone. It’s pooped itself all over the proverbial bed. I have no clue whats going on, probably too much work. It kinda sucks. But don’t you kids fret. I’ll be back at some point.
I apologize for my fail.
That guy
I apologize for my fail.
That guy
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